


Hands

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, Drama, M/M, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 04:28:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/793967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair and Jim deal with the abuse of a friend</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hands

**Author's Note:**

> Death of a minor character. 
> 
> Thanks to my wonderful betas, McVey, Rusty and Maigret. 
> 
> Also huggles to the IRC crowd and thanks to Tex for making me post the snippet that started this story in the first place. 

## Hands

by Rivka

Author's disclaimer: Not mine, no money exchanged, just for fun

* * *

Monday night In the loft 

He couldn't get it out of his head. Every time he closed his eyes he saw them again, as clear as they had been when he first saw her lying in her office. Those hands. The talented hands that he had seen fly over a keyboard, write a note or casually touch a co-worker. The pianists hands that could play any instrument she touched. The hands that had eased so many aches out of his shoulders when he'd spent hours grading or working on his dissertation. Sometimes the only way he knew she was there was when he felt her hands easing the constant ache in his neck. The hands that braided his hair back, dried his tears and held him tight when relationships fell through, or later when he'd fought with Jim. The gentle hands, never once raised in anger, he'd seen them crushed, broken and bloody under the foot of a man who had said he loved her. The image haunted him. 

"Wake up Chief. Wake up". Jim tapped his bedmate, shaking him when it seemed nothing else would bring him out of the nightmare. 

"Wha--, huh?" 

"You were having a nightmare" 

"Oh, God! I can't get that picture out of my head," Blair said, shaking from the images the dream had conjured up, as he curled tighter to the man in bed with him. He stopped to think for a moment, replacing the image of Marge's hands with the face of his lover. Jim Ellison, friend, cop, sentinel and beloved. 

Jim was also one of the most caring people that Blair had ever met. He just didn't show it to everyone. Once those Blessed Protector instincts were launched he'd never give up. Hurt him and hed be angry, hurt something or someone helpless and he'd tear your heart out. 

"Blair. Blair." He heard the voice of his husband calling. 

"Sorry, thinking about you." 

"Another time, Blair you haven't slept through the night in days. You wake up screaming about hands. You have to let this go. She's alive, she's in the hospital, on the mend. Her hands should get better. You have to let go of this." 

"But Jim, she won't press charges and won't testify. He almost killed her and she won't prosecute him." 

He curled closer to the heat of his partner. 

"Do you know why he beat her so badly, do you know why he crushed her hands?" 

"No Chief, I don't" 

"He thought she slept with someone else--" 

"Infidelity is a fairly serious thing to a man like that, love." 

"Well, his so-called 'evidence' is that she stayed out late several nights in a row, and wouldn't tell him why." 

"Chief, if Carolyn had done that I'd have been suspicious." 

"Jim, she was in my office. I was there, I told you, remember? I said you I was storing that potter's wheel in the office for a while She asked if she could use it, said she wanted to make something special for their anniversary. That was her late night project, she was making a set of goblets for their anniversary, thinking that he had admired a pair she had seen a month ago. 

Blair looked at Jim as he continued to speak. "He kept her on a very tight leash. She had almost no money. He seems really abusive, but she loves him. God damnit, the bastard doesn't deserve her!" Blair's hands clenched and released as he spoke. 

"She hasn't eaten lunch in a month because she needed the money to buy the clay. She did that and he ruined her hands for it. She is spending that anniversary in the hospital because he got insanely jealous of nothing. I went to visit her today. She asked me to bring her the goblets. She gave them to him and he smashed them." Blair slammed his hands onto the bed, pounding his anger out until Jim's hands slipped under Blair's, holding them tight. 

"He said that the goblets were ugly, and weren't going to be in his house, they weren't worthy of having her disobey him, and if that was what she did with her lunch money, she obviously didn't need it. Jim, how can people do that? Hurt someone on purpose like that. I know it happens, but I just don't understand at all. Why is she going back to that bastard? She gets out tomorrow, I'm...I'm scared for her. I thought he might have been abusive before, but now, I'm sure. 

"Oh love, I know, but I don't have any answers for you. All I can say is try to be a friend to her. Let her know that she has a place to come if she needs it." 

"Really Jim?, I wanted to tell her that but, I wasn't sure how you'd react to a stranger in your home." 

"Blair, it's not my home, it's our home. This was just a place to live before a scrawny anthropology student wormed his way in." 

"I am not scrawny!" Blair accompanied this outburst with a pillow smashed into his Sentinel's face. 

"Oh no, dont even try it, Chief, you're ticklish, I'm not." Jim accompanied this statement by sitting on Blair's legs and tickling his ribs unmercifully. "Surrender?" 

"Oh yes, oh strong, handsome man, I am yours to do as you wish." Blair leered through his hair, the shadow of pain and worry momentarily gone from his face. 

Jim was just thankful he'd been able to drive the thought of his friend's pain out of Blair's head for a little while. He kissed Blair, holding him tight as they settled down to sleep. 

* * *

Tuesday Morning, Outside of Cascade General 

"Jim, what if she won't come with us? He'll kill her next time, or the time after that. I don't get it man. She's one of the smartest women I've ever met. Why does she stay with him? I don't understand." 

Blair was devoid of his normal bounce as he and Jim walked toward the entrance to the hospital. 

"Love, she's said she'll stay with us for while." 

"Yes, but do you have any idea how much it took to get her to agree to come stay with us? She will barely talk about it, and says she'll stay until he 'has calmed down.' At least she promised not to tell him where she'll be. She is sending him a note saying she is staying with friends. I dont know how long the abuse has been going on, she's been with him for almost two years. 

"Chief, even the smartest person in the world can be in an abusive relationship. Hell, it took my mother years to try to leave my father. He thought that that was her job, mother, wife, lover, cook, punching bag. Your friend has to do it herself, you--, we can be there for her but we can't force her to leave him permanently." 

Blair stopped, uncharacteristically quiet. "Jim, I work with the police; I know the stats on abusive relationships. She is my friend, one of my best friends." 

"Chief--Blair, we need to get her now." 

They walked hand in hand into the hospital, ignoring the occasional funny look. Jim had stopped answering Blair's questions about what people said, and had even stopped listening. They couldn't afford to waste their time worried about the occasional bigot. 

"Marjorie," The sight that greeted Blair's eyes was not a pleasant one. A petite woman, with red shoulder length hair. Her green eyes kept jumping around, but that was the only part of her that moved at all. She had a sense of stillness about her, that warred with the jumpyness of her eyes. He had seen her before, but she still looked as if she had been through a war. Her hands were cast covered and her face and arms were the faded yellow and green of old bruises, with a few still vivid black and purple. 

"Hello Blair." the woman replied quietly. "How are you? I've taken care of the paperwork, can we go now. I'm sick of this place, I want to get out of here." 

* * *

Tuesday night, The loft 

"Jim? Are you sure you're comfortable with having Marjorie here?" 

"Chief, I told you to invite her, why would I be uncomfortable. Besides, its temporary. Real temporary, not Blair temporary. What harm will it do?" 

"I'll ignore that remark. Well, it means no sex on the couch for a while, or the kitchen table. Also, well have that hot water problem again. I want her here, but I'm willing to put her somewhere else if you need me to. I mean she's never been a big perfume user or anything but still--" 

"Blair-love, did you hear me say it was okay? Or was that motor mouth talking too fast." 

"Yeah, man, I heard you. Those pearls of wisdom fall so infrequently that I make a note in my journal every time." 

"Yes Blair, she can stay. In fact, I insist. I won't see it happen again." 

"See what happen again?" 

"Nothing, go to sleep." 

"I'm tired so I'm letting this go, but this isn't the end of it." 

* * *

Wed night, The loft 

"Jim, a blind man could see something is eating you. I know it isn't Marjorie's presence here. So what is it?" 

"Chief I don't want to talk about it, let's do something a little more interesting," Jim said as he leaned over and kissed his husband. 

Blair leaned in and enjoyed the kiss as Jim's hand strayed down. Blair stopped the hand as he said, "Jim, not now. Something is going on, and we will talk about it. You said something about not letting it happen again, what? To whom? Jim, come on, this is bothering you. Tell me, I can help." 

"Blair, this is my life I don't want to talk about it. It was a rotten thing. It happened. It's done. I've 'processed', let it go." 

"No Jim, it isn't done. It's still bothering you. Jim, I've been with you for how long? How many times have you been able to lie to me, or even hide the truth. Jim, please, I need to be able to help you." 

"Okay Chief, okay. Just let me tell it my way, no interruptions. You remember that my father raised us. That's because my mother is dead. She died from a beating that went 'wrong'. He hit her too hard, and she fell down the stairs and broke her neck. Coroner ruled it an accident. My father was and is a prominent man. Everyone knew he beat her and no one ever said a word. He never laid an angry hand on me or Stephen, unless is was a spanking. I guess since we were 'his boys' that we were better than 'that woman," the contempt dripped off Jim's tongue as he told his story. 

Blair grabbed his husband and held tighter as Jim talked. 

"I tried to stop the beatings but what can a kid do? That was the only time he ever hit me when it wasn't punishment. I got locked in the closet for it. I couldn't help her. I saw her die. I was at the foot of the stairs, and I heard her screaming and him yelling about her unfaithfulness. She ran from him, stopped when she saw me. He caught up with her and backhanded her down the stairs. 

"Oh love, I'm sorry. That won't happen here. I know that. Marge has no kids to stay with him for, and you and I won't let her be hurt." 

"Mom left once, she went back because of me and Stephen. When I was little I used to think that it was my fault she died. I brought her back to die at his hands." Jim said very quietly, turning away from his guide. 

"Jim, that wasn't your fault. You weren't even ten years old, how could you stand against him?" 

"My head knows that , the rest of me never understood. It will not happen again. I won't let it." 

"Okay Jim, okay." Blair pulled his lover close to him, whispering nonsense to calm his upset husband. They fell asleep wrapped in each other. 

* * *

Thursday night, the loft

"How did work go Blair?" asked Jim 

"Well, I hate the anthro department, but other than that, my day was fine." 

"What's wrong with the department this time?" 

"Other than deciding that all the teaching fellows need to work from the exact same material, nothing!" 

"What's wrong with standardization of the lessons?" 

"Well, if I have to teach the same thing as everyone else, none of us can use any of our fieldwork as example to the kids. That is usually what draws them into the subject, our experiences." Blair started grumbling under his breath about the appropriate punishment for idiots, something about headhunters and swollen heads. 

"All right, okay, I see. How did Marge's first day back at work go?" 

"Well, there were a couple of notes from John in her box, talking about how he loved her, missed her and one saying he was going to beat the crap out of her if she didn't come back...," Blair's voice got quieter as he talked about the notes. 

"Blair, she is safe, she is fine. It will be all right. If it will make you feel better, I'll run his prints to see if I can find a reason to put her under police watch, just give me a note or something with his print." 

"Jim, would you do that? I mean this guy has all the behavior patterns of a psychopath. I don't want him near her. I let her stay there long enough. I dont want to see her go back." 

"Blair, its not your fault. She is a grown woman and you helped her get out when you could. It is okay." 

"I know, I know." Blair curled closer to his husband even as Jim hugged him tighter. 

"I'll run the prints tomorrow, and talk to Simon if I find anything. However, she'll have to cooperate if we find anything, and that's your job, to convince her." 

* * *

Thursday, the Bullpen 

"Chief, get over here." Jim pointed to the results of the print check. 

"Wanted in four states for murder! Oh God, Jim, we have to do something." Blair started pacing back and forth in front of the desk. 

"Calm down Chief; I'm going to talk to Simon about putting a watch on her, okay?" Jim patted Blair's back trying to get him calm. "Ready to go see Simon?" 

"Yeah, you think he'll say yes?" 

"Yes, and if he doesn't, I'll take vacation time and do it myself." 

"Jim, you are just asking for a reward when we get home," Blair whispered Sentinel-soft, "Chocolate covered Blair sound good to you?" 

* * *

Thursday Night, the loft 

A very tired and rather sticky Blair rolled over and asked Jim, "So, Simon said yes. Are you on the team assigned to watch her?" 

"Not really, I'm assigned to find her ex," Jim said tiredly. 

'Have I mentioned I love you lately?" Blair asked with a smile. 

"Not since you screamed it about an hour ago," Jim said with a smirk. He loved knowing that he could do that to his Blair. 

"Well, I do, love you I mean, more than anything. More than anthro, more than anyone I have ever known. I love you Jim Ellison, when you are a grouchy, stubborn brat, and when you are the sweet, cuddly bedmate." 

"I love you too, Blair." 

With that both men went to sleep. 

* * *

Wednesday night, a week later, the loft 

Jim watched as his lover stripped to his boxers and climbed into bed, moving close to the warm body. 

"Come here Chief, youre freezing!" 

"This is a change?" came the sardonic retort, rather muffled by Jim's chest. 

"How was your day? I missed you at the station. What happened with our lunch date? I thought I was getting a protein shake." 

"I'm sorry Jim, I got into a discussion with Marge about the significance of cannibalism in the Yomgom tribe of Papua New Guinea, and how it relates to many cultures belief in an eye for and eye, Biblical Justice and all--" 

Jim stopped the flow of words with a kiss. 

"Ah yes, the patented Sandburg quiet method" he said as he released his partner's mouth. 

"It sounds like Marge is settling back into the university life. No sign of John anywhere, say the guys on surveillance. They say things have been very quiet, in fact." 

"She seems so much better Jim, she isn't so scared looking all the time. She is talking and laughing a little even. I think things are really going to be okay. We'll find John or he'll take off. I'd rather we caught him, but man, as long as he leaves Marge alone long enough for her to heal I'll be happy. You and she seem to be getting along quite well. 

"Yeah Chief, I've talked to her some, about it not being her fault and all that stuff. I hope it helped her some." 

"I'm sure it did, but Jim, haven't we had Marge in bed with us a lot lately? Right now I just want the two of us." Blair pulled Jim's head down to face level and kissed him, starting to nibble on his neck. 

"Umm, Blair, if you stop I'll have to kill you." 

Blair didn't even take the time to answer before taking things one step further. Jim and Blair got lost in each other and forgot the world around them for a time. 

* * *

Thursday, The Bullpen 

"Blair, I'm going to go pick Marge up, you want to come with me?" 

"No Jim, you go on. I need to finish this paperwork." Blair said, looking up from the mound of paperwork he was engrossed in. 

"Okay, I'll bring her back here and pick you up, okay?" 

"Yeah, fine," Blair muttered from the depths of the papers. 

Jim fussed at the traffic the whole way to Ranier, he had told Marge 4:00 on the dot and he hated to be late. It would be at least 4:15 before he got there, as it was 3:50 and the traffic showed no signs of letting up. 

He flipped out the cell phone and dialed her office. She had office hours until 4:00 and always answered the phone. When it kept ringing Jim started to feel uneasy. He tried once more, still got nothing and then hit the lights and siren. Cars moved out of his way and he pulled into the Ranier lot at exactly 4:07. 

He looked toward Marge's office window, the uniforms were nowhere in sight. Worried, he piggybacked his hearing, searching for Marge. Hearing the sounds of a struggle he started to run. He heard Marge screaming, the sound of a slap, and someone falling. As he got closer he could pick out the voices, a man saying that if he couldn't have her no one would. He heard Marge pleading for her life and ran faster, almost positive the man was her ex. 

He was almost up to the fifth floor, where her office was when he heard the first silenced shot. 

Marge no longer begged. 

Jim hit the floor and bolted toward the office as the second shot was fired. He slammed open the door to the office, to find Marge covered in blood and her ex, John, standing over her, the gun in his hand. Jim pulled his cuffs and locked John to the desk, called 911 and started to check over Marge. 

* * *

The bullpen, same day 

"It's almost five, where is he?" asked Blair, He was about to dial Jim's cell phone when the desk phone rang. Blair picked it up answering automatically: 

"Hello, Dectective Ellison's desk." 

"Blair, sit down. Stay there, I'll be at the station in five minutes." Jim's voice was taut and strained. The dectective hung up the phone and Blair followed suit. 

Blair jumped up as Jim strode off the elevator. His husband's face was white and that jaw muscle was twitching. 

"I need to see Simon now. Blair, please don't come in with me." 

After twenty minutes Jim emerged from Simon's office. 

"C'mon Chief, we're going home. 

"What the hell is going on here Jim? What happened? What did you just spend twenty minutes telling Simon that you didn't want me to hear? Jim, I'm your partner!" 

"When we get home Blair, please." said Jim quietly. 

Jim's tone startled Blair into compliance and he remained quiet the whole way to the loft. 

"All right, we're home. Now what the hell is going on?" asked Blair, sounding angry. 

Jim sat on the couch and held out his arms, "Come here Blair, I have some really bad news." 

He pulled Blair tight into him and told him what had happened. 

"...they declared her dead on arrival. Blood loss and losing the lung killed her." 

Blair turned letting his tears fall into Jims chest as his husband held him tightly. Jim's few tears fell into Blair's hair. They fell asleep holding each other for comfort. 

* * *

Sunday afternoon, the cemetary

"Yi'gadal v'Yi'gadash...". The words of the Mourner's Kaddish sounded foreign in Blair's ears. He and Jim had arranged the funeral, as there was no one else to do it. They had her cremated and the ashes buried under a rosebush in the cemetery. 

"God Jim, she was too young to die, to good to die. This sucks, she hadn't even finished her degree. All she had to do was set the defense date and we would have been burying Dr. Marjorie Abram. Why didn't I make her leave when I suspected? Why did I let her stay? It is such a waste. A life wiped out in anger, for possessiveness, for senseless jealousy, for no reason." 

"Love, it wasn't your fault. If anyone is to blame, it's me, I didn't get there in enough time to do more than catch him." 

"I guess neither of us can save the world, but does it have to hurt so goddamned much?" 

"Love, I dont know." 

Blair stood at the marker stone. He slowly fell to his knees as Jim stood with him, while behind them the sun set to the sound of Blair's quiet sobs. 

They left the cemetery leaving only the marker with the words "Marjorie Abrams 1970-1998. A friend. May the beauty of her life shine from generation to generation and may our lives always bring honor to her memory" 

In memory of all those who don't survive abuse. 


End file.
